


Why murder is inevitable.

by Eadwine63



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Killing is inherent to Will's character, Murder Husbands, Will's mind is spiralling out of control, not really graphic but it's Hannibal, what else can I do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eadwine63/pseuds/Eadwine63
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is killing Hannibal so important to Will? Maybe it's just about killing. Or maybe it's just about Hannibal.<br/>It was a feeling unlike any other he'd experienced so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why murder is inevitable.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel this is a jumbled mess, but at least I think I got a decent ending after switching around some parts, editing, multiple 'deleted scenes' and some throw-a-glass-against-a-wall frustration.

It was a feeling unlike any other he'd experienced so far. It was more beautiful than standing up until your knees in a lake at the crack of dawn. It was more peaceful than looking back at the lights of his house from the distance, in the middle of the night. It felt safe and comforting. And it felt thrilling. It was the strangest thing to feel his heart beat so fast and not feel any anxiety at the same time. He felt utterly in control of himself, but also of the situation. His mind had finally melted with reality and there was no reason to feel bad. In fact, what he felt was more than just good; it was brilliant and it was exciting and it was arousing. He smiled. 

Will was still smiling when he sat down on the sofa, his hands cold and the blood that had dried on them cracking like a second skin. He couldn't find the words to describe the feeling, but he assumed the man across from him understood the rather detached smile. Will still relived the moment he'd gotten his hands around Hannibal's throat, still felt the feeble resistance of skin pushing against a knife rather than the other way around, still felt the warmth when he'd dug his hands inside of Hannibal. And yet, the man he'd killed sat in front of him, alive and looking as curious as he always was. 

"Tell me how you killed me this time." 

As Will talked, the other man not only listened, but seemed to absorb the words Will so carefully chose. Slowly, he described every little detail just as he'd done time and time again these last few weeks. When he was finally coming to the end, Hannibal took his hand and guided him up. Will's legs felt shaky when he followed the other to the bathroom. The routine didn't at all diminish the faint leftover high Will felt; he felt positively entranced. Hannibal undressed him rather slowly, as if Will were an animal easily startled. The bath he stepped into was filled with lukewarm water and slowly, as Hannibal washed him, the water became laced with a reddish hue. He lifted a hand, as if to catch the water and keep it with him. He took a deep breath and smiled again. 

Will would forget everything. He'd wake up in his bed, or sometimes he'd find himself waking up somewhere else completely, without any recollection of the night. The sleepwalking scared him, as did the hallucinations he became aware of more often. He feared the moment he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between hallucination and reality anymore. He feared the moment his fantasy would turn into a twisted reality and he'd become what he so despised. Will feared the murderers in his head, feared the way they'd one day take complete control of him. He felt powerless. 

He felt unstable.

"I don't remember how I got here," he tells Hannibal when he finds himself waking up on the doctor’s doorstep, all the while trying to conceal just how upsetting he finds it – but he realises how badly he fails at hiding the extent of his anxiety. Hannibal tells him he lost time again, that his sleepwalking only differs in the fact it happens at night. He says Will's mind is trying to hide from the trauma it's gone through. He doesn't tell Will how often he’s been here, lost inside his own mind. He doesn't tell him about the various occasions Will killed Hannibal in his loss of time. 

It's only when Will catches up to what his hallucinations have been telling him, that he starts to remember the feeling of killing Hannibal as well. He sees him – or at least a glimpse of him. He is angry for having been played with, but more than anything Will wants to dig deep and find out what each and every layer of the doctor is hiding. He wants to understand in a way he’s never wanted to understand. He’s so used to running from the minds of killers that it’s terrifying to play the game, but equally exciting, if not more so. 

“Came to kill me, Will?”

Will never truly believed his attempt to kill Hannibal through someone else would succeed, and if he’s honest, he's glad it never succeeded. He’d have missed out on feeling his life wither in front of him. They talk about killing, or at least Will does. He talks about how he imagines killing the other man and all Hannibal can do is smile a little. Will thinks there’s an odd familiarity about the way they talk and the way Hannibal behaves, but he expects nothing less from a man like Hannibal. Will talks of murder in dreams, of the feeling that makes his fingers tingle and his chest ache. Will speaks of the thrill he never felt before, how addicting it is, how the disgust for murder made room for the plain and simple desire to be so utterly in control of something and feel stable. 

In the end, Will doesn’t think he could really kill Hannibal. He’s afraid of what happens afterwards. Would he put his desires elsewhere, or would they stop existing at all? Would the urge to kill disappear as quickly as it made an appearance? Somehow, Will knows it wouldn't because that urge didn’t just appear overnight. He also knows that killing would never feel as satisfying if it weren’t for Hannibal. 

When they talk, Hannibal always smiles. As if Will were praising him instead of murdering him in words. Maybe it’s just a killer’s smile; a sort of understanding. Will feels the same understanding, a sort of kinship. The feeling that lingers between them makes Will wants to touch – but not just touch: he wants to rip apart, to tear, to destroy. To create is to destroy. 

It feels so good to kill, Will thinks. Through murder, he understands Hannibal and that’s really what Will has wanted for so long. Hannibal has become … obsessively important. Like a fixation. He wants to play with him, just as he’s been played with. He wants to reveal Hannibal’s true nature – his true potential. He wants him to tell him all about the murder and the blood, the intimacy and the power. The quiet of mind, stability. 

When Hannibal washes the blood off Will’s hands, he smiles and Will can’t help but feel like it’s one of the truest smiles he’s ever seen on Hannibal’s lips. He watched Will kill, watched him create art from a man’s body. He watched him unravel. 

“You kill me because it brings us closer,” Hannibal concludes.

“Intimate. I want it to be … intimate.”


End file.
